Forgotten
by Lyrith
Summary: Vernon's hatred of Harry is motivated by hidden ambitions, and a surprising past. Also includes DracoHarry SLASH.
1. 4 AM

I own nothing out of Harry Potter. Not mine, not mine. Please review!

"You'll never fit in with use, _boy_," said his father angrily. His wrathful countenance frightened the young lad, and filled him with a fear that was destined to grow into bitterness and spite. He hung his head in shame. Here he was, his father's only son, and far beyond any hope. He failed. He couldn't carry on the family traditions, he couldn't inherit the mantle of honor, he couldn't continue their noble obligation. And, as the flickering candlelight lent deathly orange-tinged shadows to his aspect, he dropped his innocence to the floor.

* * *

"That's more than enough of _that_, boy," huffed Uncle Vernon, looking ready to smack the smile out of Harry. "Quit chuckling and turn the bacon before it burns." Harry at once put on a serious face, and stifled the last of his laughs. He quickly flipped the crepes, too. The kitchen smelled of greasy sausages, and . . .

"Are you blind?" roared Vernon Dursley. "That bacon's nearly on fire!"

"I'm sorry," stammered the poor six-year-old. "I can't see.

Petunia cast a nervous glance at her husband./ She whispered, "The school is insisting that we have his eyes checked, Vern-he has to have glasses. If we refuse, well, they could take him . . ."

A sharp pain shot through Vernon's chest. For a brief and breathless moment, he suspected another heart attack. But that was not the truth of it.

He could not allow the boy to go another place. Harry must not be freed. Yes, Vernon had wanted to keep him blind, and in darkness. But if he could not keep him totally and literally blind, then he would just hide the important sights instead. This charge that had been laid upon him was his only hope.

So later that day, Petunia took Harry to the tiny clinic on the grimy end of town. He sat on the torn vinyl-covered chair, nervously kicking his legs beneath him, wondering what unpleasantness awaited him. Harry only ever came here to get a nasty shot-his required immunizations.

Two hours later, Harry had a brand new pair of glasses. The small child was quite delighted with the thick black frames-they were his, they were different, and they were the only new thing he had ever gotten. Three hour later, Harry finished taping the lenses back together – Dudley having much enjoyed the snapping sound they made.

* * *

Vernon awoke at four A.M., as he did each and every morning. He was careful not to awaken Petunia. Stepping carefully around the double bed, he picked his way over to the window, and looked up and out.

_Tell me I'm fulfilling my duty,_ he thought. _Tell me that the past nine years haven't been in vain. Tell be I've so crushed his spirit that nothing will rise within him, that your desires are satisfied_. A sparrow fluttered out from the shrub below and startled him. Not the bird he'd hoped for, the one that so rarely came. But he checked daily at four A.M., and went back to bed unseen.

Had he bound, blinded, stifled and silenced Harry enough? Would Vernon's reward be paid to him?


	2. Strained Afternoon

I don't own Harry Potter and Co. Okay, so the first chapter was basically a prologue, so you'll have to wait to find out where that's going. Sorry - I know, but I'm the only one. This is still a pretty short chapter, but they will gradually get longer and longer. I think that's all you need to know. Read on, and thanks for the reviews!

* * *

Harry shrugged off the blankets and made his way to the Gryffindor common room. Too many thoughts sought to keep him from sleep this afternoon. It looked like he wasn't going to get his much-needed nap today.

The Potions test had required two nights of extensive studying, and even then only Hermione had seemed comfortable right before the exam. Harry's own eyes betrayed his level of discomfort with the idea of the test.

"It's hopeless" Harry said, agreeing with Ron's assessment. "I haven't got a chance in Hades."

He thought he caught a glance from Draco- a triumphant smirk?

"Mind your on," Harry muttered wearily.

Professor Snape strode in, setting an odd-looking figurine on his desk. It had 2 outstretched hands, each with six fingers forming a circle in front of it. In the center, a miniature wand moved slowly around the fingers.

Snape waved his wand, and their exam parchments appeared in front of them. Harry screwed his eyes shut.

"You will have one hour," snapped the professor. He tapped the pointed hat atop the StopWitch, and the wand began to move around the fingers at a faster rate. The professor cast a glance back towards Draco.

"Mr. Malfoy, as my monitor, will assure that there is no cheating." This didn't seem very likely, as Snape had seated them in a staggered fashion. Every Gryffindor found themselves surround front, back, and sides by Slytherins, and vice-versa. Certainly, Harry was not going to cheat, no matter how badly he felt he might be destined to perform on this test, but the boy felt robbed of moral support.

Then Draco turned around again and shot him another queer glance. Harry couldn't quite read the smile, but it made him a little sick. Draco muttered something in an intense tone under his breath.

Sighing, Harry turned back to his parchment. For a second, his head spun, and a wave of dizziness and nausea came over him. As he struggled to conquer the feelings-test anxiety, probably-Harry suddenly felt the answers come to him. An odd sort of clarity settled over him, and he finished the test with confidence and ease.

But now, that confidence had been thoroughly squelched by doubt. Why had he been so comfortable? There was a more than slight probability that it had all been complete bunk. There was a significant chance that Harry's total confusion had generated a series of meaningless answers. Had his subconscious sought to finish the horror of that test? Harry knew that he had not been well enough prepared.

And that was not the only thing bothering Harry as he trotted down the spiraling stairs. What was that peculiar look Draco had given him? It was not quite one of Draco's usual mocking glances. Beneath the condescending, challenging amusement, there had been something else. Another . . . suggestion . . . hidden in those cruel, angular, well-chiseled, finely-made features, so very-

Harry tripped down the last few steps. Lately, he'd been noticing Draco's aesthetic qualities.

Why? Harry tried to erase thoughts of Draco with those of Cho.

Fionulla Brickleduffer was staring at him from Fred Weasley's lap. He shifted uncomfortably. They did not like each other at all, much to the chronic frustration of Fred. Fred guessed that Harry disliked her because her cousin was a Slytherin, and she was well acquainted with a number of them. But Harry's consternation came from her piercing glares. She always seemed to know what he was thinking, even when he didn't know himself. He almost thought her full, smirking lips mouthed the word "Draco." Harry broke away from her gaze.

"Fred, have you seen Ron?" Harry asked, avoiding Fio's look."

The redheaded young man touched Fio's check. "Not since lunch."  
Harry nodded. A pang of jealousy shot through him. Why couldn't he feel that way about someone?

* * *

Draco was in the only place that Crabbe and Goyle wouldn't follow him. The late afternoon sun streamed in through the library windows. Draco was seated at a mahogany desk that shone brilliantly in the bright squares of sun. A book was open in front of him. That was definitely something Crabbe and Goyle wouldn't have recognized. Idiots! "From good families," his father had said, "The perfect comrades for you. Them, and Potter. We need him."

Draco had been obedient, and Crabbe and Goyle had become his lackeys. "Potter" refused his overture of friendship. Over the past few years, Draco had gradually come to realize something.

"'We need him?'" he said softly to himself. "Funny, _I _need him." Bloody Harry Potter – blind to Draco's controlled and reserved admiration. Malfoy wasn't one to demean himself by begging and too strong and composed for tears or falling apart. He was not the most open of persons. He kept his feelings to himself, and his subtle communications were expected to suffice.

Today's Potions exam was a good example. Draco's gift, preceded by his gentle expression of camaraderie, had been completely unappreciated. And Harry's reaction suggested he had completely misread the look.

"What more do I have to do?"

The library doors opened again. Apparently one of the Wonder Twins had finally mustered the courage to set foot in the library. Draco slammed the tome shut, and a bevy of Dust-Mote Pixies sparkled upward in the light. Sighing, he followed Goyle, clearly uneasy in the library, back out into the hall.

* * *

Harry thought Ron might be snuggling Hermione in the library, so he hightailed it over there. But just before he rounded the corner to the library, he ran into Tweedledee and Tweedledum, followed by His Highness Draco Malfoy.

Author's Note: Yes, I know it ended on an awkward note. I'll try to be more clean-cut with my chapters in the future


	3. The Play's The Thing

Hermione sat with Ron in an empty nook. It had once held a statue of a pretty maid with flowers, but she had run off with one of the suits of armor in the castle. Ron was holding Hermione's hand. They were squeezed in close, barely fitting.

They had come here to make out, and snuggle, and generally engage in disgustingly sweet activities. Harry had been a little sensitive lately about their public displays of affection. Yet he still didn't ever want to leave them alone, so they had to sneak away to cuddle.

They looked to their right at the sound of footsteps. Then, they looked to their left at the sound of more footsteps. Hermione gasped, and stifled a giggle.

"Ron, Harry's coming, and so is-"

"Draco," finished Ron, eyes wide.

The trio of Slytherins met up with Harry, right in front of Hermione and Ron. Hermione whispered something, and they were clothed in shadows.

"Hello, Malfoy," said Harry hotly.

Malfoy gave him a frosty stare. Fire met ice, and the resulting steam was nearly tangible. "Potter." He crossed him arms over his chest.

Ron whispered in Hermione's ear, "You know, Draco may be an ass, but Harry's bloody destined for him. Look at those two."

"Shh! They'll hear us," hissed Hermione under her breath. Ron 'hmmphed' and turned his attention back to the pair.

"Flanked by your goons as usual, Draco?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "I could send them away, if it would make you happy."

"Fuck off!" said Harry, and pushed past the three. Draco turned around to watch Harry walking away. The Gryffindor boy didn't give Draco a second glance.

Hermione watched the expression on Draco's face. His lips tightened, and a muscle to the right of his mouth twitched. The girl fought another giggle as two faint spots of purple appeared on his cheeks.

"Looks bloody ridiculous when he's near blushing, doesn't he?" Ron said quietly.

His girlfriend nodded. "He's all the wrong color for it." They leaned forward, trying to stay hidden in the darkness.

"Why would you send us away, Draco?" Goyle asked in a hurt tone.

Draco shut his eyes in exasperation. He took a deep breath, and turned to them. "Because you're getting on my last nerves right now. Shut up." Hermione caught Draco mouth 'git' as he turned away from them. With one last look down the hall, Draco turned and left.

Harry finally caught up with Ron and Hermione at dinner. "Where have you guys been all afternoon?" he said as he ran to catch up with them.

"Library," Ron said quickly, at the same time as Hermione said "Quidditch field." They looked at each other.

"That is-" Ron began.

"We were at the Quidditch field, then-" Hermione cut in.

"It looked like rain, so we-"

"Came in to-" Hermione continued in a flustered tone.

Harry looked at both of them. "Never mind. And it's a perfectly nice day, no hint of rain. You don't have to be secretive on account of me. I can handle it."

"Of course, Harry," Hermione said pacifyingly.

He pushed his glasses up and sighed. "Let's just go eat."

Harry didn't notice Draco staring at him as they took their seats at the Gryffindor table. Seamus sat next to Harry. "You look glum. What's wrong? Slytherins again? They're an infestation, I tell you."

Harry just nodded a little.

There was silence in the hall as Dumbledore stood. "I am very pleased to announce that Hogwarts will be starting a playing troupe. Tomorrow afternoon, we will be holding auditions for our first production here, at three o' clock. Professors McGonagall and Snape will be in charge of casting, along with a few other teachers. Now, all of you will have studied at least a bit of Shakespeare by graduation in at least one of your classes, as he is, in fact, an alum of Hogwarts." There was a twinkle in his eye at the murmer across the hall. Many students were unaware of this fact, since the Shakespeare study was a minor matter in the seventh year studies.

Despite magically-altered historical records to the contrary, Shakespeare had indeed attended Hogwarts in his time. Still, despite a decent skill with magic, the performer and the artist within him had been more important than the practice of wizardry. His resulting fame had required some editing of history, but the population of Hogwarts was still proud of him. Those who had known this, anyway.

"Shakespeare went to Hogwart's?" Hermione said in surprise.

"Oh, something you didn't know?" jested Ron. "Uh, who's Shakespeare?"

"Shh!" Hermione advised him.

Dumblesdore went on. "To encourage you to expand your horizons, any student who auditions will be given both bonus marks in a class of his or her choice, and house points as well. However, please keep in mind, if you audition, and are cast in a part, you will be required to play that role, attend all rehearsals, and be generally dedicated. No exceptions, no excuses, no arguments. So consider carefully whether you wish to audition or not. That is all, and I look forward to what I am sure will be a simply splendid production. Let's eat!"

The food appeared in front of them. Hermione looked confused. "But-he didn't say _which_ play."

Ron was tearing into a grilled cheese sandwich. "I don't think he meant to. What's with all that stuff about having to play a part if we get it? And who's this Shakespeare chap?"

"William Shakespeare, born in Warwickshire in 1564-"

Harry cleared his throat. "Hermione, I don't think he needs a lesson in his background. He's a playwright. I thought a Muggle playwright, but-"

Hermione took a bite of carrots. "But he's not. And I guess it makes sense, when you think about it. So many of his plays have magic in them. I'm sure we'll be doing something that involves magic. The Tempest, Hamlet, A Midsummer Night's Dream-oh, I bet that's it!" She smiled. "Ron, are you going to audition?"

"I don't think so," said Ron. "I don't need marks that much. I might be cast!"

"I'm auditioning," Harry said suddenly. "If it's for the good of the house, I'll do it. And maybe, if I get a part, I'll enjoy it. I've been feeling rather bored lately."

"Harry, are you really? You're really going to try out for the play? Shakespeare isn't easy, you know."

Harry looked at them sharply. "I'm not afraid of a challenge."

Neville piped in, looking very nervous. "Well, I'm going to try out too."

And this got everyone's attention. "What? You're going to try out?" Seamus said in shock.

Neville turned bright read and stared only at his plate, but nodded. "Yeah. I need the marks in Potions. And for Gryffindor-I feel like I never do anything, but at least I can help out with the points."

Hermione touched his arm kindly. "Neville, we all like you. You don't have to do this."

Neville looked up a little, still red. "You talk like I'll get a part. Please, Hermione. There's no way."

"What about you, Hermione?" Ron asked, and she turned to him, leaving Neville to his dinner.

"Me?" she said in surprise. "I don't know. Shakespeare is beautiful, but it's very difficult. I don't know if I have the time." Hermione reached over and grabbed a chocolate biscuit. "Maybe. There isn't much time to think about it, is there? I guess I probably will. It's an important experience."

Ron rolled his eyes, and Harry grinned. "She doesn't even want to be in the play, but she's going to try out."

"Well, it's good to see you smile, mate," Ron said. He looked down past Seamus and Dean to where his brothers were sitting. "You guys going to try out?" he called.

George yelled back, "Yeah, of course."

Ron looked puzzled and shrugged. "Why would he say 'of course'?" He turned his head the other way. "Ginny, what about you?"

She grinned. "Yes, I am."

Ron groaned. "Well, I don't care what anyone else is doing. I'm not trying out for the play. I'll show up at auditions and watch you guys. For moral support." He downed half a glass of water, and no matter what anyone said to Ron for the rest of the meal, he wouldn't budge.

Author's Note: Well, I had finals last week, so I was busy. And the merciless plot bunnies never seem to aid in my writing. On the plus side, my novel is up to 175 pages. Yay for me.

Prize if you review...well, not really. but I'll be happy.


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